


Proper Goodbyes

by nikkiRA



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 22:46:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1322050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkiRA/pseuds/nikkiRA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You were never good at accepting gifts, Moony.” “This is not a gift,” he explains. “This is a curse.” This is not the kind of crazy he desires. Seeing the man he loved. Loves. Whatever. No one deserves that kind of madness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proper Goodbyes

**Author's Note:**

> Even if you're not a fan of Remus/Tonks don't let that throw you off! I'm not either, honestly, but I promise it's not so bad.

When he dies Remus collapses on the floor of their bedroom and stays there for hours. He lies face down on the carpet and ignores everything. Ignores the bustle of people on floors below him, ignores the terrible laughing of Mrs. Black, ignores the dull throbbing in his chest, ignores how his heart still continues to beat inside.  _Why do you keep beating? Why do you try to keep me alive when I’ve given up?_ Remus is excellent at ignoring. He is a master. The buzzing in his ear, the silence, the emptiness of a world without Sirius (again) is loud enough that he can effectively ignore everything else.

A voice comes unbidden into his mind, whispered in his ear, quiet but unmistakable -  _can’t mope all day, love. Besides, God only knows what’s in that carpet._

Remus bolts up, eyes searching the room, for the body that voice belongs to. Remus knows who that voice  _should_ belong to, but that’s impossible because that body is long lost.

There is nobody in the room and he brushes it off as his brain playing tricks on him. He goes back to lay on the carpet but in a few moments Tonks comes to check on him. She lifts him up by his armpits and wets one of his shirts, wipes his face with it, whispers soothing words of comfort and cries. He looks at her as she presses the damp shirt to his forehead and then flinches away. Her eyes are filled with tears. Her grey, grey eyes. They are Black eyes. They are Sirius’ eyes.

“Remus,” she whispers, and with reluctance he turns his gaze back to her.

Her eyes are green, now. There is not a hint of Sirius in them.

He collapses against her. He thinks he even falls asleep.

\---

The next time is when he moves out of Sirius’ house (not Sirius’ house, it was never Sirius’ house, not really) and into this crummy little flat that can barely stay up but that he still can’t really afford. Sirius didn’t leave him anything in his will, not officially, but Remus has a slip of paper and a tiny Gringotts key hidden in his freezer. The note reads:

_Moony, I know you’ll probably never use this but it’s here for you anyway. I’ve left everything to Harry because I’ve already given you everything. This is a key to my vault. Use it if you need to. Put your pride away for a while because you can’t eat pride, and you can’t sleep on pride. What’s mine is yours, you stupid beast. That’s how it’s always been._

_Help yourself to anything you want. I’m sure Harry won’t have much use for most of my stuff._

_I’ve left him everything I own but I’ve given you everything I have, especially my heart (do not make fun of me and tell me that Azkaban’s made me go soft, you wretched man, I just thought I should tell you once)._

Remus will not use Sirius’ gold. Any reminder of the man is locked away in Grimmauld Place, where Remus can’t see it.

His grieving may not be especially healthy - out of sight, out of mind - but it’s how he copes. If that’s what this is. Coping.

“Have I mentioned you can’t eat pride?”

A voice in his ear. Remus knows it isn’t real because there is no breath, no exhalation that disturbs his hair. But he still jumps out of his skin.

“Hello?”

A ghostly laugh. Remus draws his wand.

“My cousin is here.”

“What?”

There’s a knock on his door. “Remus?”

He lets Tonks in, confused and slightly frightened.

\---

“You are rather adorable when you’re confused.”

He whirls around, sends the carrots he had been slicing by hand flying all over the kitchen floor. “ _What the fuck?”_

“Look, Moony.”

Remus turns back to his carrots, determined to avoid the voice in his head. The voice is stubborn. It keeps fighting.

“You can’t just ignore me.”

“It’s very easy to ignore something that isn’t real.”

“... You’re angry at me.”

“ _You died._ Something which you apparently can’t seem to understand, since you’re hanging around inside my head.”

“Look, Moony.”

Sirius is leaning against his refrigerator. Remus closes his eyes, wills himself to smarten up. “You’re not real. I’m going fucking mental and you’re not real. You’re dead. You died. You left me and you’re dead.”

“You are mad at me.”

_“You’re not real.”_

When he opens his eyes he’s alone.

\---

“I’m hearing things.”

“What?”

He stops, shuts his mouth. He hadn’t meant to tell Tonks that. He hadn’t meant to tell anybody that, but especially not Tonks. Remus was not born yesterday and he knows how Tonks looks at him and he does not want anyone to look at him like that. Not now, not ever again. Especially not Tonks.

She studies his face, stares for so long he finally looks at her. Her eyes are large and green again but he still somehow sees Sirius in them. He looks away. She sighs and shifts, brown hair, grey eyes, and he thinks this might be what Nymphadora Tonks really looks like.

He doesn’t want to see. She doesn’t show this to many people and he desperately wants to not be one of them.

\---

“She likes you.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s rude, m’only trying to start a conversation.”

“Can’t have conversations with a dead man.”

“Says who?”

Remus ignores it. It will go away if he simply ignores it.

“You’re trying to ignore me. But you’re not succeeding because I can see the gears in your head working and you’re trying to decide if you should go to St. Mungo’s or not.”

He starts to hum.

“Look at me Remus.”

He hums louder.

“Please.”

There are no fingers on his chin, he knows that, because there can’t be fingers on his chin because Sirius is dead, but he turns his head anyway and looks at the ghost in front of him.

Except Sirius is not a ghost. He is not transparent and white, and Remus thinks that if he was brave enough he could even touch him.

“I don’t fucking understand.”

“You don’t always have to understand everything.”

He smiles without humour. “You’re not Sirius.”

“Oh?”

“Sirius knew that I always had to understand everything.”

A smile, a real smile, from the ghost in front of him. “You were never good at accepting gifts, Moony.”

“This is not a gift,” he explains. “This is a curse.”

\---

“I’m going mad.”

“No you’re not.” He tries not to let it, but Tonks’ gentle voice reassures him. “And even if you are that’s alright. You deserve it.”

Does he deserve to be mad? Maybe the mad that involves living in your own head, ignoring the harsh truths of reality and constructing a dream world that has everything you’ve wanted. That mad, maybe. He wouldn’t mind that mad.

But this is not the kind of crazy he desires. Seeing the man he loved. Loves. Whatever. No one deserves that kind of madness.

\---

“She likes you.”

“You said that last time.”

“Are you going to talk to me this time?”

“Maybe you’ll leave faster.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

He turns around. Sirius is there, looking at him with those huge puppy eyes that used to work magic on him. “Will you?”

“If you want me to. Of course I will.”

Remus cracks a knuckle. “What’s happening?”

Sirius shrugs. “Just saying goodbye. Properly.”

Remus decides this is probably a dream. Or he really has gone insane. Either way, he is going to enjoy it.

He closes his eyes. “I’m sick of you always leaving.”

Lips ghost over his cheek, his temple, his lips. Remus can’t tell if they’re real or only memories.

“At least I always come back.”

Sirius is gone when he opens his eyes. He assumes he’s woken up.

\---

“Remus?”

“Yes?”

Hands drift across his back, down his arm, clutch onto his wrist. They are real. He can see them, he can feel them. They are not memories. They are real hands. Small hands with nails painted bright green. Girl hands.

“Do you think you’ll ever get over him?”

Remus looks at her. Her eyes are bright blue, gleaming. Hopeful? No. What is there to be hopeful about? Certainly not him. Tonks may harbour a small crush on him but that is all it will ever be. He is old and dangerous and shared a bed with her cousin. Tonks knows this. Tonks is one of the few who do.

“Even if I do - I’m done with falling in love. Nothing ever goes as planned.”

She turns entirely grey and he feels a slight twinge of guilt.

\---

“You don’t have to plan everything.”

He is in bed. “Another moment when you prove that in death you became spectacularly ignorant of my character.”

There is no movement beside him in the bed. The mattress does not sink. But ghost lips are on him again and he lets himself enjoy them. For once he lets himself enjoy them.  _You deserve it,_ Tonks had said. Maybe this is the kind of madness he wants.

“I reckon I’m mad.”

“Reckon you’re right.”

He turns but he doesn’t open his eyes, terrified when he does Sirius will not be there.

“You’ll leave again. And this time it will be for good.”

He hears Sirius laughing. Inside his head? Maybe. Possibly. “You have Tonks.”

He feels himself falling asleep, lulled by the sense of security that has overcome him. “Don’t wanna hurt her.”

“S’not your fault. It’s just very hard not to fall in love with you.”

His voice is teasing and Remus tries to swat him but he’s too tired, ( _and besides, there’s nothing there to swat_  says his brain _)_ so instead he whispers “tosser” and falls asleep or wakes up, whatever this is.

\---

“Remus.”

“Stop.” His voice is much harsher than he had intended. “Tonks, I’m serious. Stop.”

“I’m just -”

“No. You’re not. Please.”

She looks like a deer caught in the headlights. He wonders what Sirius would say if he could see the look on his cousin’s face. The real Sirius, that is, not the result of his mind’s deterioration.

“I’m trying to help you.”

“This -” he gestures wildly between them - “this  _is not_ helping.”

She is grey before him, grey and small. She doesn’t fight. When he told Sirius they couldn’t happen Sirius had told him to stop trying to grow a vagina and had pushed him against the wall, had covered Remus’ mouth with his own, kissed him until Remus was weak and then he laughed and Remus bit him and pushed him down and they fought and they kissed and they punched and they bit but Sirius fought for him and Sirius continued to fight for him. Tonks is just hurt. She is hurt and grey and small. She is not Sirius.

_That is a good thing. You do not want her to be Sirius. Sirius is gone. Stop living in your head._

\---

“Do you think she’s a better kisser than me?”

“M’not discussing this.”

“Why? Just a question.”

“She’s your cousin, Sirius, we’re not discussing her snogging prowess.”

“You forget I’m a Black. Her being my cousin is basically a turn on for me.”

Remus doesn’t laugh. He turns his head, stares at Sirius out of the corner of his eye. “You can’t be real.”

Gentle lips, imaginary lips. “Who are we to decide what is real and what isn’t?”

\---

He folds in on himself and Tonks does the same. People notice. Whisper. She sends him longing looks and he tries to ignore her and Sirius doesn’t visit him again. He is either becoming saner or even madder. He isn’t sure in which direction he’s going.

Then Dumbledore dies and everything goes to shit and he gives in and he holds her because she’s  _real,_ she’s real in his arms and she’s still there when he opens his eyes and her lips aren’t imaginary, they aren’t a memory, they are real. Her hair is pink beneath his fingers and her kiss doesn’t make his knees weak, not like Sirius, but it makes him feel.  _And feeling is good,_ he tries to convince himself.  _It hurts but it’s good._

\---

“You’ve left. And you didn’t say goodbye. Again.”

He is talking to thin air.  _You’re mental, Remus Lupin. Fucking mental._

“You’ve never said goodbye to me, do you know that? Before, when we were young. You moved out without a word. And then you went to Azkaban. And then you died. Not one goodbye.”

The Sirius voice inside his head speaks. There are no ghostly lips or ghostly hands, just a ghostly voice.

_D’you remember what you said, the first time? You told me I wasn’t real._

“Are you?”

_Doesn’t matter, Moony. She is._

The voice doesn’t sound much like Sirius.

Sounds more like him, to be honest.


End file.
